She Never Stood a Chance
by aussieokie
Summary: Set in the aftermath of Liz's death, Donald Ressler struggles to come to terms with her loss. He should have done more. He should have been there for her. But with Solomon's men after her, it becomes increasingly clear that she never stood a chance. A short, multi chapter piece. Ressler/Keenler.
1. Chapter 1 - The Underpass

_So this story is kinda late for me. It's been some time since we saw Liz die, leaving Ressler securing the scene and helping Red out of there. I was asked if I'd ever consider writing how Ressler coped with her death (if he hadn't have been in on it, as I'd written in Conv3). And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to tell that story. it won't be a long one, maybe three or four chapters. Hope you enjoy!_

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If Donald Ressler had known four hours ago what he knew now, he'd never have left the Post Office. If he'd felt even a hint of the pain inside him, he'd have stayed and talked with Liz more. So much more. And not just today. Every day since she'd been exonerated. Every day since they'd spent the night huddled together in the jail cell. He'd taken care of her that night and been her rock. He'd dodged a bullet so close it could have parted his hair. He'd protected her as her partner and friend. Just as he should have done today when she needed him more than ever. But they hadn't made it in time. In a rush of red and blue and sirens blaring, they failed to intercept her before she could reach the hospital. He never reached her side in time, failing her as she lay dying in a white van as gunfire sounded around her. Amid the frantic effort of her doctor and Reddington's pleas, she passed from this earth and slipped away on a lonely street.

Just like Audrey.

Pulling his jacket back on, Ressler watches Reddington's car disappear over the hill, safe from the police and reporters overhead. A broken man who had collapsed at the heartbreak of losing Liz. Holding his thoughts on Reddington he walks, mind whirling as his heart hammers in his chest. It's hard to breath. Ahead, his SWAT team are checking bodies, kicking away firearms and securing the scene as he walks steadily, light jacket blowing in the breeze.

He needs to tell Samar that Liz is gone and waits until she notices him, before his hand finds her back and leads her toward their SUV. And the words are foreign to him. It's his voice, but it's as if someone else is speaking. Because the words cannot be true.

"Samar," he begins, swallows then continues, "Liz… She didn't make it," he says, his voice thick and heavy with the effort. "She's dead." And he can't look at Samar and steps away, taking in the words himself. She cannot be dead. But she is. It's Samar's strangled sob that catches his ears and he turns back to her, startled at her breakdown. She's stronger than this. He catches her flailing hand and holds it in his, hesitating a moment before wrapping his arms around her. No matter what has gone on between them in the past, right now she needs him. She needs comfort.

And so does he. Closing his eyes against the truth of Liz's passing he holds a shaking Samar to him. She hasn't asked what happened. She doesn't need to yet. All that matters is the heartbreaking truth that Liz will never walk this earth again. She will never smile. Never sweep her hair back as she turns. And never hold and cuddle her newborn baby girl.

"She… she can't be," Samar sobs, to which he whispers, over and over that she is. Because a whisper is all he can manage. "She is…" he utters again, and it's not only Samar that he's convincing. They cling to each other, oblivious to the armed SWAT guys working the scene and the faint chop of helicopter blades above them. For this one moment, they can pause and be human amid the bodies and blood of a crime scene.

Samar pulls her arms from around him, touches his chest and with mascara stained cheeks, looks at him through red rimmed eyes. "I can't even imagine how…how YOU feel," she sniffs, squeezing his upper arm. "I'm sorry. I know you care for her."

Yes, he does. Did. Don't go there, he admonishes himself.

"Come on," he tells her, guiding her to the SUV and opening the passenger door for her. Still sniffing, Samar climbs into the vehicle, reaching into the glove box for a tissue. Holding it against her face she rocks forward.

"I'm sorry," she tells him, without needing to. "I can't believe she's…"

Nor can he. They'd tried so hard to reach Reddington's ambulance and were too late. If he'd been a few minutes earlier. Maybe just two minutes and he wouldn't have lost another woman on a roadway.

"Agent Ressler."

He doesn't hear the man. Not when his heart is hammering in his chest against the tight restriction of Kevlar, almost suffocating him, yet years of training won't let him remove it. Not even now when Solomon is long gone, Dembe has driven Reddington away and the perps are dead, their bodies littering the road in puddles of congealing blood.

Because they're not the bodies he's thinking about. Nameless, gun wielding goons obeying Solomon are no cause for concern and barely rate a fleeting glance. Not when Liz lies dead in the back of a van some 50 feet from him.

Another breath catches in his throat. A throat he can barely swallow past, with the pain of suppressing the tears that want to come. That need to fall, but he will not allow them to break that boundary. Because he'll fall with them, and he must stay on his feet.

"Agent Ressler." The man is closer now as Ressler turns to face the black garbed SWAT agent, assault rifle slung across his chest. "We counted four dead. Where do you want us to-"

"We have 5 dead," Ressler hisses, eyes rising again to the Coroner's van on the other side of the bridge. His voice thick, fighting against the constriction in his throat he continues, not giving the man a glance. "Just take care of these 4. You know what to do."

"Yes, sir." And if the agent didn't know what to do, there is no way he's asking the lead agent again. Not with the look in Ressler's eyes.

With a glance to Samar as she sits subdued in the passenger seat, Ressler walks away from the SUV and the SWAT agent. There is something he needs to do. Purposefully he walks toward the coroner's van, sidestepping the bodies and abandoned vehicles as he does so. A gust tugs at his jacket as the first small drops of rain are carried to him on the wind. On wooden legs, breathing through lungs threatening to burst he picks up the pace, breaking into a jog at the sight of the body bag on the gurney.

The body bag that contains Liz.

Liz with her smile and brunette hair. Liz who'd he'd spoken to mere hours before, telling her he'd be there if he could. But not for this. For her wedding. Not her death. Liz who was supposed to be married now and off on her honeymoon in Aram's uncle's car, dragging those stupid tin cans on strings behind it.

"Damn it…no," he whispers, before steeling himself and refusing to let those thoughts come forward either. "No." He can't go there, gritting his teeth against the emotion.

But as he passes the white van, doors still open at the rear, all he can see is Reddington at her side grasping her pale, dead hand, leaning down and kissing her forehead. The man devastated and lost as part of him died with Liz. But it's too raw and once again with an effort Ressler buries it. He must concentrate on others wellbeing. He cannot give into his own feelings. To do so will render him useless.

Yet still he must see her, even at the risk of what that may do to him. Striding beyond the van and its echo of death and tears, he catches up with the gurney as Nik and Mr Kaplan are preparing to load her into the coroner's van.

The woman raises her beaked nose to view him over her small glasses. "You shouldn't be here, dearie," she tells him.

He doesn't answer. Of course he shouldn't be here. Oh course he shouldn't be standing by Liz's lifeless body. His hand, almost of its own accord, reaches for the black bag. It's thick under his skin, cool to his touch. He can't see her face under the plastic, yet his hand rests on her forehead.

Mr Kaplan's hand finds his arm, squeezing just a little. "I'm sorry," she tells him. "Elizabeth…she…"

And the sentence is left hanging as Ressler shakes his head, cradling her forehead through the bag. But he needs to see her for himself. Not with Reddington cradling her hand and collapsed at her side. Just for him. One last look upon her. But he can't find the words in a throat that has almost closed against the ache as his eyes slide to Mr Kaplan's sympathetic smile.

"You'd like to see her," Mr Kaplan says softly, dropping her hand and unzipping the bag slowly for him. "I understand."

And as she folds the black plastic back Liz's pale skin comes into view, causing his tears to make their best attempt yet to break free. Yet still he manages to hold them in check with a grit of his teeth, blinking rapidly. Under the threatening rain, soft almost imperceptible drops of rain moisten her white cheek. Like gentle tears from Heaven, he thinks, telling himself not to go there either. Dark hair falls across her forehead as his finger gently touches it, easing it back into place for her. She always keeps – kept – her hair so well. And suddenly he's leaning down to her, his lips brushing her forehead as he softly kisses her.

No response from her. No soft smile. No eyes flickering open at his touch. Beside his heart that threatens to break, hers is silent and still. Its job done, its last beat has seen her through her life to now lie at rest inside her chest. She's gone.

Mr Kaplan's hand pats his back as he raises again, gazing at Liz and still cradling her forehead in his hand, needing to imprint this final view of her in his brain. To hold onto her. To remember how serene she is with unmoving dark lashes upon the satin skin of her cheek.

"I need to take her now," Mr Kaplan tells him as Nik comes into view, hovering behind her again. With a nod to the woman Ressler doesn't wait for the body bag to be closed again. That he cannot see. He must focus on her lying at peace among the chaos that surrounds him. As he turns away, Mr Kaplan calls softly to him. "She's free now, dearie. In a better place."

Eyes drawn down to the grey road surface, he chokes out, "Tell that to her newborn child." And not waiting for an answer, he leaves Mr Kaplan to load Liz into the coroner's van. The sound of the zipper reaches his ears, but he does not turn. He's seen all he needed see. He's kissed her and sent her on her way, leaving him alone on a roadway beside her lifeless body. And so his feet begin their slow walk to the underpass where the white van is parked.

"I'll take care of her, dearie" Mr Kaplan calls out, and at that he does glance back to her, giving her a thankful nod. There is some small comfort in that fact. Like Reddington, he doesn't trust Liz with anyone else.

Around him, the SWAT guys have done their job and loaded the bodies. Only the blood on the roadway signifying that death occurred here. Yet the hardest death of all shed no blood, taking place in a makeshift ambulance. She should never have been in that position. Should never have been in that danger. And he's stopped without realizing beside the van. Empty now. No gurney, no medical equipment, and no dead woman with a distraught criminal at her side. Behind him, the coroner's van starts up, taking her away from him. He resists the urge to turn and watch her slip further away and continues on his way, coming out from the underpass as he approaches their SUV.

A handful of armed men still guard the scene, as the leader turns to him as Ressler approaches. "We've secured the scene, and the transport is enroute to pick up these vehicles," the agent tells him, nodding to the parked utility vehicle complete with bazooka in the rear bed. With a nod to the team leader, Ressler passes him silently, intent now on just getting the hell out of here.

As he pulls open the door of the SUV and climbs in, he leans back for a moment feeling the headrest behind his head, exhaling heavily before leaning forward to start the engine.

"You okay?" Samar asks, sniffing as she dabs her eyes.

No, he's not okay. "I'm fine," he manages without a sideward glance then starts the engine, falling in behind the armored Hummer as it heads out. And turning the SUV around in the street, he leaves the underpass and its empty white van behind him, where in the dark confines of it Liz breathed her last breath, leaving the earth and those who loved her in her wake.


	2. Chapter 2 - I Failed Her

The drive back to the Post Office is a blur, and Ressler is thankful that he's following the armored vehicle in front. Because his mind is not on the road. His thoughts still lie behind him at an underpass, even though Liz is no longer there. No longer anywhere, he suddenly realizes. A gasp escapes before he grits his teeth again, ignoring Samar's quick glance across to him. And forcing himself to concentrate on the Hummer in front and the surrounding traffic, he manages to drive across town without wrapping their SUV around a utility pole.

Samar's tears are dry, which is something else he's thankful for. Because if she starts up again, his constricted throat may not be enough to hold back his own. Neither speak, each lost in their own thoughts. Ressler's phone rings a couple of miles out from the Post Office, and with one hand he drags it out of his pocket and sees the caller ID.

"Shit..." he whispers. He's not in the mood to have to tell anyone else. Not when he's behind the wheel.

"Would you like me-" Samar offers, plainly seeing Cooper's ID on the screen.

But he's got it and answers, exhaling as his other hand grips the steering wheel.

"Ressler," Cooper says on the other end of the line then pauses, his voice softening. "Don... we heard about Elizabeth. Aram and I." At Ressler's silence, Cooper continues. "Reddington called. Look, it's a lot to take in, so just get back here when you can," he finishes.

"We're almost there," Ressler replies, not in the mood for anything else and hangs up.

"They know," Samar says, and she's not asking. Her own phone lights up with a text from Aram asking if she is okay. She types briefly, but Ressler doesn't see what she replies as his eyes return to the road and the Hummer in front. And when the entrance to the parking lot finally comes up on his right he turns in, finding a bay near the elevator and shuts off the ignition. Arms quiver as he still holds the steering wheel. He hadn't realized just how tightly he'd been gripping it.

Hand on the door handle, Samar gathers up her jacket and stops, looking across at him. "You sure you're okay?" she asks.

There is no way he's telling her that he's not so sure. Not this time. "I'm fine," he answers, staring out at the concrete walls of the parking structure in front of them. Concrete that looks just like the walls of the underpass. He snaps his eyes shut at that.

She's still looking at him. "I don't think you're fine."

With a flash of his eyes he whips his head around. "What do you want me to say, Navabi? You want me to break down too?" And it's out before he can hold it in. With a shake of his head, he drops his eyes from her, hissing a breath through clenched teeth. "Sorry."

"I know. It's okay," she tells him softly. "It's also okay not to be fine." She doesn't wait for his answer and exits the car.

Exhaling, he leans back in the seat, then tugs the keys out of the ignition and slams the car door behind him. "Shit."

She's waiting for him at the elevator and stepping in together, it takes them three floors down. As the doors slide open they're greeted by two people. Aram makes a beeline for Samar, hugging her before she's barely stepped into the room. And leaving the two of them, Cooper touches Ressler's arm and walks with him down the center of the war room. A few agents nod to them, knowing something has happened, but not sure of the facts. Ressler doesn't acknowledge them. He can't. Not yet.

Entering his office, Ressler tosses his nylon FBI jacket on the hook, then finally tears off the Kevlar, freeing his tight chest in a sublime moment that doesn't last nearly long enough. He stands, runs a hand through his hair then looks to his boss who is regarding him quietly.

"Sit down," Cooper offers, then leans against the window ledge.

Ressler complies, dropping into his chair as he completes the freeing of his constricted chest by unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and loosening his tie. It does very little for the ache in his throat that's apparently taken up permanent residence.

"Don, what happened out there?" Cooper asks. "Reddington didn't say much other than we'd lost her. That Elizabeth is…dead," he prods.

Liz is dead. Ressler wonders briefly if those words will ever not jar his senses. If those words will ever not cause a quicken of his heart and an intake of breath as the image of her lying in a black body bag springs to mind. Eyes dropping, her dark hair comes into focus on her pale forehead. A forehead he'd kissed in farewell.

"It's okay, we can talk later," Cooper offers, but Ressler is already speaking. Because he knows what happened. Or what didn't happen.

"I was too late. I didn't get there in time," he replies through his constricted throat, eyes drifting to the desk across from his. To Liz's empty desk. "I failed her." And he can't stay in the chair and rises to stand at the window beside his boss, looking through the blinds into the war room. Aram and Samar are huddled together at his desk talking and Ressler almost envies their companionship.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Ressler continues. "She died in the back of a van with a gunfight raging around her," he says, eyes sliding across to Cooper. "Solomon made sure she never made it to the hospital."

Cooper sighs, taking it in with a shake of his head. "You didn't fail her, Don. The team who ambushed her are responsible for this. Whoever hired Solomon to take her." Cooper pats Ressler's back as he stands up off the window ledge. "Come on up to my office, okay? I'll get the others."

It's not a request. Not really. Ressler nods to his boss. He doesn't have anywhere else to be right now. With a final look to her desk, Ressler leaves his office and heads up the stairs behind Cooper, their feet clanging on the metal steps as all four of them ascend.

"Wait a moment," Cooper directs them, then stands on the upper level, looking out to the agents in the room below and those on the upper platform. "May I have your attention, please?" he calls out, his deep voice quieting the room. Agents stop what they are doing and turn their attention to him, waiting to hear definitive answers to the rumor mill that has been running rampant. "A short time ago, we lost one of our agents." A gasp goes up among the gathered few before silence returns. "Elizabeth Keen has died." He stops, waiting for the shock wave to pass through the assembled agents.

Behind him, Ressler turns away, eyes closing against those words. Even without the Kevlar, his chest is still tight. A heart that beats a little too fast pounding inside it like a drum.

"Now I know she wasn't technically an agent," Cooper continues, "but to me she always will be." Murmurs of agreement reach their ears. "I would ask that each of you keep her family and friends and those of us who knew her in your thoughts and prayers. Thank you."

A chorus of "So sorry," and "Terrible news," and "Such a tragedy," greets Ressler's ears as Cooper leaves the railing and motions to his office door.

"Wait. Wait," Aram interrupts. "I need to say something too," he tells Cooper. "May I?"

"Of course, Aram."

With a shared nod with Samar, Aram calls down to the agents, quieting the chatter. "I um, sorry. I just wanted to say that there is a baby girl out there, Agent Keen's daughter, who had a pretty rough entrance into the world this afternoon." A chorus of 'aaawws' greets that announcement.

Ressler turns back, drawn in by Aram's words as a long forgotten memory rises. Of their first day and him waiting impatiently for Liz to get off the phone while she discussed a family. She had wanted to be a mother from the day he met her. And now her baby is here, but Liz is not here to raise her. Fate has raised its cruel fist again.

Aram falters, but when Samar touches his arm, he continues, "Liz … she would have been a great mom." Voice trembling now, he forges on, determined to say what he needs to. "This baby girl will never know her mommy, so while you're remembering Agent Keen, please…" he hesitates, then finishes in a quivering rush. "Please give a thought to her baby girl too." He stops, then gives a "Thank you," to them before turning away from the railing.

Something occurs to Aram as he faces the task force. "Um, do we know her name?" he asks, wiping his fingers across his cheeks.

"Do we?" Cooper asks, turning to Ressler and Samar.

It had not occurred to Ressler to find out. Not with all that had happened. "No," he replies, kicking himself for not even knowing that. How could Liz have given birth to her baby and he not even know the babies name?!

Closing the door behind him as they enter his office, Cooper regards all three. "I know this is hard," he says, motioning to his chairs for them to sit, "but I thought it might do us some good to quickly gather before I let you go home. Talk about it, if that helps."

Ressler is done talking. None of it is going to bring her back. He stands, arms folded and leans against the wall while Aram and Samar take two of the chairs.

"Drink?" Cooper offers, holding up a bottle of whiskey.

"Please," Samar sighs, definitely needing it.

"Uh, no," Aram replies, to which Cooper smiles gently.

"Don't worry, I have your Limeade in here too," and reaching down to the small fridge under the bar, he pours a glass and hands it to Aram.

"Don?"

Ressler shakes his head. He needs a drink badly. And that's the problem. If he takes a drink he may not want to stop as the need to numb himself takes over. A feeling he's far too familiar with and hates about himself. Thoughts turn inward as the voices of Cooper, Samar and Aram fade. Images of the church and bullets flying. Of Liz being led away as he fired his weapon to protect her. Because he's always protected her and always will. With eyes focused far beyond Cooper's office, he realizes that no, he will never protect her again. Will never see her or hear her again. And while he failed to protect her, others took her away. From her baby girl. From him. They took her at the very moment she became a mother. Those nameless, faceless bodies on the road robbed her of her greatest joy.

Startled from his thoughts it takes him a moment to realize that Cooper has said his name as the office comes back into focus.

"I said go home, Don. All of you, head on out," Cooper tells them. "I'm going to be heading out very soon myself. It's been a hard day for all of us."

Ressler is first to leave the upstairs office and descend to the war room and his office. Completely his office now, as its former occupant is gone along with her dreams of ever being reinstated as an agent. They took that from her too. The clench of his teeth tightens, rippling his jaw. And he's sitting at his desk again, looking at his computer when he sees the report on the house they raided earlier today with the surveillance equipment in the basement. They had disconnected the feeds, but where did those feeds go? The guy was in the wind, but this house was their only solid lead on who had carried out the raid on the church and the ambush at the underpass.

"Don, we can do that tomorrow." Unseen, Cooper has entered his office behind him.

He ignores Cooper for the moment, zooming in on images taken at the house. Because somewhere in there, was a lead to where those feeds were being sent. To the people who did this. To the ones who killed his partner, leaving her dead in a body bag on an industrial stretch of road.

"Did you hear me?"

"We need to find who did this," he tells Cooper. "Because these bastards took her-"

"I know that. But we can look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow," Cooper tells him coming around to face him as Ressler sits at his desk, leaning forward to the computer screen.

"Tomorrow may be too late. We need to find these guys and-"

"Go home, Don."

"I need to work," he tells his boss, never taking his eyes off the screen. Because the job has always been the one thing that can help numb the pain. He wouldn't drink the mind altering whiskey, but he can dive into the work and find out who the hell took her away from him.

"Not tonight. Go home." Cooper's voice is firm.

Shaking his head, Ressler scrolls through the photos, stopping again on another shot of the cables snaking across the basement. There has to be something here. There has to be.

With a flick of his wrist, Cooper leans across and flips the screen off to get his point across.

"Damn it!" he hisses, glaring at Cooper.

"Don." Cooper leans forward, meeting his agent's eyes. "I know this is hard for you."

Dragging his eyes off Cooper, they dart across the black screen before him, his hand still on the mouse. Ressler's breath catches in his throat. "I just need to work," he hisses, blinking rapidly.

Cooper's hand finds his shoulder and squeezes it. "I know that. But not this time, okay? Come on, I'll take you home."

"I'm fine," he gasps, throat tightening unbearably again knowing his last resolve is being stretched too far.

"Right. But my driver can make two stops and drop you home also." Cooper stands and hands him his jacket, then pats his back as Ressler rises from his chair. "Come on, Don."

Trembling from the effort to hold the tears in, Ressler tosses on his jacket, grabs his keys and walks silently with Cooper toward the elevator. Cooper's phone buzzes just as they step into the yellow box. And taking a moment to look at the screen he smiles wistfully then turns the screen to show Ressler. It's a text from Reddington, via Dembe, because Red would never send the text himself.

[Elizabeth's baby girl is named Agnes.]

Ressler's heart skips a beat in his chest. The baby girl who will never know her mother has a name. The baby girl Liz will never rock to sleep, and hold close for skin cuddles as she feeds her has a name. As they ascend in the elevator, Cooper looks sideways to Ressler's clenched jaw. "We're going to find who did this. We're going to hunt them down. For Elizabeth."

Stepping out of the elevator beside his boss as they cross the parking lot to the waiting car, his chest feeling like someone is sitting on it, Ressler raises his head in heartbreaking defiance.

"And for Agnes."

And after a silent drive home as Cooper's driver traverses the early evening traffic, Ressler finds himself at his apartment some 20 minutes later, dropping his keys into the bowl by the door. Alone for the first time all day, the apartment is quiet, save for the sound of the ticking wall clock in his living room. He's tired, but his mind will not slow. Entering his bedroom, clothes are quickly tossed into the hamper with more exertion than necessary as he strips, heading for the shower.

And under the hot water he stands, letting it wash away the day. But it cannot wash away the loss. He leans against the tiled wall before finding himself sliding down to sit on the tiled floor as the water cascades down. With knees raised and head leaning back against the wall his eyes close. He can see her. See Liz lying on the gurney with her pale skin and dark hair against her forehead, eyes closed, never to open again on the light of day.

A gasp escapes his lips. And the dam opens as the tears he's held back all day break free.


End file.
